


Dirt in the Skirt

by Rina (rinadoll)



Category: A League of Their Own (1992), American Girls: Kit - Various Authors
Genre: Baseball, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Friendship, Gen, Inspired by Real Events, Post-Canon, Real people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2240952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinadoll/pseuds/Rina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1943. Where else would Kit be than in the All American Girls Professional Baseball League?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirt in the Skirt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DWEmma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DWEmma/gifts).



It was a small article, buried at the bottom of the page, but Kit saw it immediately. She read it and then read it again. 

They’re putting together a professional girls baseball league. 

There will be tryouts in Cincinnati. 

She should be reading it for errors, but she couldn’t conceive anything could be wrong with these words. 

Saturday, April 18, at Turkey Ridge Field. She knows the place, over on Eastern Avenue. Next weekend. She ran through her calendar in her head, but couldn’t think of anything she needed to cancel to be there.

“Miss Kittredge!” Mr. Stevens bellowed from his office. “Where’s that last page?”

“Nearly done,” she called back and pulled her eyes from the article. She read the page quickly, marking out errors, and brought it to the editor’s office. “Here, sir.” 

He didn’t look up, but waved in acknowledgement. She went back to her table and finished her tasks, but her thoughts were a million miles away. In all her wildest daydreams, she never could have imagined that there would be a professional ball team for her. It was hard enough to dream about being a reporter, but that was just barely possible. But baseball? Never.

She gathered her purse and headed straight for Ruthie’s. 

“You’ll never guess what I read in tomorrow’s paper,” she said, unable to keep the grin from her face. 

“No, I won’t,” Ruthie said, closing the door behind her and starting towards the den. “Tell me.”

“Mr. Harvey, the candy man who owns the Cubs? He’s starting a baseball league for girls. A girls’ league!” Kit said. “There’s tryouts next week.”

“Really?” Ruthie looked taken aback as she put away her knitting. “Where?”

“Here! In Cincinnati!” Kit bounced a little. “Whoever is good enough gets to go to Harvey Park in Chicago for the last round. Isn’t that exciting?”

“It..is, absolutely,” Ruthie agreed. “Do you play here in Cincinnati, though?”

“I don’t know,” Kit admitted. “I’ll find out next weekend at tryouts.”

“But what about your job?” Ruthie asked. “You just got your table. Can you do both?”

“I don’t know,” Kit repeated, a little deflated. “I’ll find out, right? But just think, Ruthie. A whole baseball league of our own. Can you believe that?”

Ruthie finally grinned. “It’s swell, all right.”

Walking home, Kit couldn’t shake her misgivings. She loved being a copygirl for the Enquirer. She was proud of her promotion. Oh, hell and damn. Why couldn’t Ruthie have kept her mouth shut? She pushed open her front door and called out to her mother.

****  
Kit arrived early on the 28th, and she wasn’t alone. Hundreds of girls in baseball gear were milling the field, lining up in the stands and generally making a roar of noise normally heard in Crosley Field, not Turkey Ridge.

She spotted a friendly looking girl, bit older than herself, tossing a ball up and catching it as she watched the action around her. Rather than face the crowd alone, she walked over.

“Practice with you?” she offered. “I’m Kit.”

“Betsy,” the woman said, putting out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Sure, let’s play.”

She and Betsy became fast friends and stuck together through the day. Betsy was good - very good - and it made Kit nervous. She had to fight to keep up, which made it all the sweeter when she finally caught one of Betsy’s line drives. 

It turned out that Betsy played in the city’s semi-professional softball league and knew a lot of the players there. She pointed out a few of them to Kit as the ones to keep an eye on, and kept a running commentary on others as to who the good sports were and who was doing better or worse than usual. 

By noon, half the girls had been asked to leave. The remaining girls were split into two groups - one played and the other broke for lunch. She and Betsy joined a group of girls in the stands and spread out their lunches.

“Why aren’t you in the softball league?” Betsy asked. “You’re good enough.”

“I work for the Enquirer,” Kit explained. “They don’t have a girls’ team.”

“A newspaper woman?” Dora asked. “Fancy.”

“Not yet,” Kit said. “I will be, though. I’ve been writing newspaper articles almost as long as I’ve been playing baseball.”

The conversation continued around her, but she was distracted by the women on the field, the amazingly talented women pitching and catching and hitting and sliding, just like her favorite baseball players. She’d never made it to any of the softball games because she saved her money for the Reds, but she regretted that now. There was something special about watching women play, with no men to overshadow them. She needed to be part of this. This was where she belonged.

They got half an hour to eat and rest before Mr. Sheehan, the scout, called for the groups to switch. Kit took her position at 2nd base, grit her teeth and got ready to play harder than she ever had. She caught a fly and tagged a runner out in the field, before swapping sides and hitting a single at her first at bat. She ran fast to first, getting there a hair before the ball. She bounced on the base, exhilarated, and took off for 2nd at the next hit. It was the most fun she’d had in ages.

It had been chilly all day, and it was getting colder as the light changed to late afternoon. The group got smaller as they kept changing sides and positions. There were about 30 girls left when Mr. Sheehan called them to the mound. He read out seven names.

“Dorothy Kamenshek. Betsy Jochum. Marion Wohlwender. Adelaide Shimkus. Beatrice Brown. Caroline James. Margaret Kittredge. You’ve been selected to move on to Harvey Park.”

Kit barely registered the rest of his words. Betsy threw her arms around her and finally Kit woke up, hugging her back. She was in.

****  
Kit raced up the steps to her back door, threw open the door and slammed it behind her. Dad was in his arm chair, reading, while Mother and Ruthie sat over Ruthie’s wedding plans. Kit had seen that book so many times she could guess what section it was open to - flowers. There were several pages on colors and types, depending on the season when Charlie and the groomsmen returned from overseas. She let them look up at her in the living room doorway before she spoke.

“Thanks awfully for all of those practices last week, Dad. They really helped get the rust off my skills,” Kit said, eyes sparkling.

“Did you do well?” he asked, setting down the newspaper. 

“Pretty well,” she said. “Most of the other girls play on the city softball league, but I kept up.” She pulled a sheaf of papers out from behind her. The contract. “Actually, of all the ones going to Chicago, I’m the only one who doesn’t play regularly.”

“Kit!” Her mother jumped up and hugged her. “Darling, that’s marvelous.” 

Kit’s father followed. “I’m proud of you, Kit,” he said. “Well done, sweetheart.” 

Kit grinned happily, letting her mother propel her towards the couch while Dad leafed through the contract. “The best part is that if I make it onto a team, there’s only four, but if I make it, I’ll earn $75 a week!”

Ruthie cut through her parents’ shocked responses. “For baseball?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes, for baseball,” Kit said. Ruthie had been enthusiastic about the Girl's League after the first day, but now she had that shocked look back on her face. 

“Well, of course you’ll make it,” Ruthie said, fumbling her plans closed. “When do you ship out?”

“The 16th,” Kit said. “They’ll mail my train ticket when I return the contract. Tryouts start the next day.” 

“Ah,” Ruthie said, nodding, gathering her materials. Kit’s mother put her hand on her shoulder, but Ruthie just smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be wonderful. Mrs. Kittredge, thanks for looking over these with me, but I should be going.”

“Don’t you want to celebrate with us?” Kit asked. “I thought maybe we could go for some ice cream.”

“No, no, my father will be needing me,” Ruthie said. “Good night.” 

She left, with Kit frowning after her. 

“She’ll come around, sweetheart,” her mother said. “She’s going to miss you, that’s all.”

"I still have to get in," Kit reminded her.

Her mother smiled. "You will."

****  
May had passed by in a blur of practice - the letter with her ticket had instructed her to get into shape. She and Betsy practiced nightly with her father, using all of his knowledge from his college team days. By the time the train left, Kit felt closer to Betsy than Ruthie. 

They hadn’t fought, which was worse than if they had. Ruthie had stayed detached and polite, no matter how frustrated Kit got. She hadn't been trying to pick a fight, not exactly, but a reaction would have been nice. She'd gotten a bigger one from Mr. Stevens, who had been bemused by the whole idea - until he'd talked to some of his newspaper cronies and realized that Mr. Harvey meant business. Her job was on hold until September as long as she supplied the Enquirer with information and quotes for a few articles.

Now she was in Chicago, at the Belmont. She was sharing a room with Betsy and Honey Shimkus, but Mr. Harvey was paying for it all. Kit had never stayed in a hotel before, let alone for over a week. It was the most luxurious of all luxuries to not worry about cleaning or making beds or cooking. Everything was done for her. She wished she could tell Ruthie all about it. 

They were stuck in the hotel room for an hour before dinner, while chaperones knocked on the doors of people going home. Honey was taking a bath while Betsy napped. Kit stared up at the ceiling. She heard a faint knock down the hall and cringed. She pushed herself up and went to the desk. Better to do something than wait.

She picked up the pen and considered the hotel stationary. She added the word Chronicle to the hotel name and started writing a newspaper for Charlie.

> TENSIONS RISE  
>  It's been ten days of intense tryouts and the end is near. Of the 200 girls sent to play at Harvey Field, only 100 will remain by nightfall. In the morning, 64 will be chosen to spend the summer playing in four teams. Friendships that flourished a week ago are now waning under the strain of wondering who will stay and who will go....
> 
> SHOO IN OR SHOO FLY?  
>  Who has the best odds of staying? The Chronicle reached out for opinions:  
>  Helen Haley: Dottie Hinson, Kit Keller and Kammie Kamenshek.  
>  Adelaide "Honey" Shimkus: Kammie Kamenshek, of course. Dottie Hinson, too.  
>  Beverly "Slats" Dixon: Marla Hooch and Kit Keller.  
>  Ellen Sue Gottlander: Dottie Hinson and Marla Hooch.  
>  Betty Johnson: Evelyn Gardner, Honey Shimkus and Dottie Hinson.  
>  Betsy Jochum: Us, of course! I mean, Kit Kittredge and I. And Dottie Hinson.  
>  Dottie Hinson: Marla Hooch.
> 
> BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS  
>  Kit Kittredge, Annie Taylor, Sara Pierce and Hazel Jones celebrated their 20th, 19th, 23rd and 16th birthdays, respectively, with a joint event in Room 233, after hours. These very respectable young ladies hosted a very respectable game of poker and Miss Kittredge really cleaned the table....  
> 

When she finished, long after dinner, she had three pages of articles. She copied out a few of them to keep for Mr. Stevens before going back to the letter. The layout and flow wasn't great, but there wasn't time to rewrite it. She'd draft next time.

There was space for one last paragraph and she left it blank until the following afternoon.

> CONGRATULATIONS  
>  South Bend Blue Sox manager Bert Niehoff welcomed his first sixteen All American Girls Baseball League players Kit Kittredge!!!!!, Betsy Jochum....  
> 

****  
Kit's first day as a Blue Sox didn't live up to her dreams.

She stabbed her fork into her pot roast. "I hate those dresses! How are we supposed to play?"

Betsy shrugged. "I think they're cute."

"But they're so," Kit waved her hands. "Flippy. I kept hitting my skirt when I tried to pitch. Now I'm in the outfield."

"I got tagged out at home because I wouldn't slide," Eileen Crestfield said glumly. "Only a masochist would deliberately hurt themselves like that."

"It wasn't that bad," Lucille Grant said. "It stung, but not like I thought."

"Ladies don't slide," Clara White said sagely. "They glide. Gracefully and grandly." The table burst into laughter as Kit groaned.

"That's another thing. Charm school. I did not sign up for charm school!"

Betsy looked at her seriously. "You did, actually," she said. "Don't you want to play baseball?"

"Lipstick has nothing to do with baseball," Kit said. "They're making a joke of us!"

"You heard Mr. Lowenstein," Lucille said. "We can play as hard as we want, but outside the game, we're a reflection of the league and Mr. Harvey. We all read those articles about the "masculinization of the players." It won't hurt any of us to go to Charm School, and it could help the league. It's not that bad."

"It makes me feel like a movie star," Bonnie Baker admitted. "I think it's fun."

"I guess," Kit said, unconvinced. 

Their last night in Chicago, they were handed binders ("Notes on a Star to Be," Kit read, trading disgusted glances with Clara and Eileen) and bags. Kit opened hers and found a collection of beauty products - cream, lipstick, rouge, astringent, face powder, hand lotion, hair remover, even deodorant. 

"These items, used thoughtfully, will help you each become a bright star, casting your radiance in many circles," their instructor trilled.

Kit rolled her eyes and looked towards Betsy, but she was digging through her bag and trading lipstick shades with Lucille. Even Clara and Eileen were comparing bags. She wished that Ruthie was there - but then, Ruthie would love charm school. 

Later, Betsy sat in front of the hotel vanity as Kit sprawled on her bed. "Doesn't all this bother you?"

"All of what?" Betsy asked, rubbing in her cold cream.

"Charm school. The rules." Kit rolled over and picked up the League rules of conduct. "'ALWAYS appear in feminine attire when not actively engaged in practice or playing ball. At no time may a player wear slacks or shorts in public. Boyish bobs are not permissible and in general your hair should be well groomed at all times with longer hair preferable to short hair cuts. Lipstick should always be on.' Why does that matter?"

"It doesn't," Betsy said. "That's why I don't care. They're easy enough to follow and in return, I get to play baseball." She shrugged. "I've been fighting to play since I was 8 years old and the boys didn't want me in the sandlot. I'm in. I won. I'm not going to start a new fight because of lipstick and pincurls. I'm going to play." 

Kit leafed through the binder with a sigh. "More rules. There are even rules about freshening up after games. Did you know that you must dry yourself well after a shower?"

Betsy grinned. "I did. I hope that's not one of the rules you're going to have a hard time following."

Kit laughed despite herself. "I'm feeling confident about that one."

"Good." Betsy stood and crossed to her bed. "Just worry about playing the game, Kit. The rest will fall into place."

****  
They took the El to South Bend the next morning and Kit forgot her frustration with the rules. All they did was play ball. Mr. Niehoff treated them like they were ballplayers, not just girls, leading them through drills and pushing them hard. 

The dresses were embarrassing to run in, but they were getting used to that. Pins helped keep things in place. Lucille had taken back what she said about sliding - she vowed never again, limping with her strawberry, but of course she never remembered that when flying towards a base.

They had two nights in a hotel before their boarding home was ready. The second night, Kit bought a copy of the local paper, the South Bend Tribune, in the lobby. She turned to the sports page and stopped short.

Betsy bumped into her. "Kit, leave it until we get to the room," she sighed. 

"No, look at this," Kit said, excited. "It's us!" She pointed to a photograph of Bonnie pitching. 

"Let me see," Betsy said, grabbing the paper. "'There you have Miss America, 1943. No she's not a bathing beauty - she's a baseball player, and a darn good one, too,'" she read. "Mina Costen. The Tribune has a woman sports writer!"

She was a summer intern, actually, the daughter of the sports editor, and she introduced herself to the team the next day at practice. She didn't stay long; she and Kit were excited to meet, but Mina was determined to follow the paper's ethical guidelines to the letter.

"Write to me after the season is over," she said, handing Kit a business card for the paper. "You and I are going to be good friends, but only out of season."

"This is perfect," Bonnie told Kit, eyes shining. "This is good publicity, just what Mr. Niehoff and Mr. Harvey want."

Their first game, the first in the whole League, was a doubleheader against the Peaches. Mina had written more articles about the team, running through their roster and introducing them to the town. They raced out of the dugout to meet their new fans and stared. 

"Where is everyone?" Kit asked. The stands were mostly empty, a few jeering men scattered through the seats. 

Bonnie bit her lip. "I don't know." She glanced over at Mr. Niehoff, who was shaking his head. 

"We ought to warm up," Betsy said.

Eileen gripped the ball tightly as a man yelled at her. "Gracefully and grandly, girls," she said. 

"Start with Kit," Bonnie said. She headed towards Mr. Niehoff and Kit went to home plate.

She tried to ignore the boos and taunts from the men behind her. "Girls can't play ball," one hollered when she fumbled a catch. There was a piercing wolf whistle when Eileen's skirt fanned out as she jumped to catch and Eileen's face went red. She pitched the ball hard and it smacked right into the man. 

Kit burst out laughing as Eileen frantically looked towards Bonnie and Mr. Niehoff. Fortunately, both had their heads down over game plans. She tried to school her face. It wouldn't do to laugh in his face, no matter how much he deserved it.

"Throw it back, mister?" she called and held up her mitt. He glared, but complied. 

She couldn't stop her giggles again and threw it back to Eileen right as Mr. Niehoff called them back in to let the Peaches take the field.

> Blue Sox Gazette (M.K. Kittredge, editor):  
>  EVEN SPLIT DOUBLEHEADER  
>  ...After a neck and neck game, Dottie Hinson of the Rockford Peaches hit a three run homer in the bottom of the 9th to win the game 5-2. The Blue Sox refused defeat, however, and scored their own home run in game two, with Betsy Jochum bringing in the winning run...
> 
> SERIES CONTINUES  
>  The next day's doubleheader was a near repeat of the previous day, each team winning a game. Errors, walks and stolen bases accounted for many of the runs, leading manager Bert Niehoff to call extra practices before the final game...
> 
> DECISIVE WIN  
>  The Blue Sox took the series 3-2, taking an early lead in the second inning and winning the final game 12-9. Manager Bert Niehoff credited the leadership of catcher Bonnie Baker and stellar work in the outfield by Kit Kittredge and Betsy Jochum. The team is now off to Racine, Wisconsin for new challenges...  
> 

****  
Kit picked up the Tribune and read Mina's latest article. "Clara, did you know that you have a saucy turned up pug nose and deep blue eyes fringed with dark lashes?"

"I wouldn't call it pug," Clara said, patting it protectively. 

"It has nothing to do with playing baseball," Kit said, crumpling the paper. "Even Mina is all about our looks."

"Well, we're lookers," Eileen said. "She still talks about our games and our plays. It's better than being called the Glamour League like they did in Kenosha."

"Ever since Dottie Hinson did that fancy catch, all the newsreels and articles are paying attention to us, but it's all about being pretty and ladylike," Kit complained. "The Rockford paper published Betty Horn's spaghetti recipe. Spaghetti!"

"It's what Mr. Harvey wants, Kit." Their chaperone, Rose, walked in and everyone straightened. "It's important that everyone sees that we can be ladies and ballplayers both. They see your skills on the field plainly; they are undeniable. We need to tell them this part, so they have the full picture of you all."

"When I send my articles to my family and my editor, I give them box scores and facts," Kit said. "I talk about Betsy leading the league in singles and doubles both and how we are in first place. The important parts."

"The Tribune does the same," Rose said, and Kit nodded reluctantly. "Your family isn't here to see the game, so of course you need to share that. But just look at the difference in the stands since our first games. Now we have families coming to see us, and fans who keep coming back. That's because they know you as ball players and as ladies and want to support you. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kit said, though she still didn't like it. She did, however, like Rose and she didn't want to make trouble for her. The whole team counted themselves lucky to have her and not the witch the Peaches had.

"Good. I came by to tell you that Mr. Costin wishes to interview you, Clara and Eileen tomorrow. Please remember our conversation." 

Kit banged her head against the couch back when Rose was gone. "I hope he doesn't want a recipe for spaghetti, because I don't have one." 

He didn't. He wanted hobbies. Clara showed off the socks she had been knitting for soldiers and Eileen spoke about her volunteer work with the USO. Kit racked her brain for a feminine idea. She could knit and sew, technically, but she didn't have the patience to finish anything. She couldn't even make coffee well, which is what they wrote about Beth Atkins. She could make meatloaf, most of the time. 

"Gardening," she blurted out, when Eileen finished. "I like gardening. I have a Victory Garden at home, but I've raised vegetables since I was a little girl." She let out a breath of relief when Mr. Costin nodded and followed up. Thanks to Aunt Millie, she could talk about gardens all day.

Kit found Betsy reading the article the next night before the game. "What's the verdict?" she asked.

"You have roguish eyes and a winning smile," Betsy said, setting it aside. 

Kit considered that. "Could be worse," she said. "I'll take it."

"Good. Now put some lipstick on that winning smile before we're late." 

Kit touched her bare mouth. "Oh, hell and damn."

****  
The team fell into a routine. At home, they practiced in the mornings, had the afternoon off, and played one, often two games, in the evening and night. On the road, they would drive all night, have the morning off, practice in the afternoon and play at night. The pace was grueling, but they pushed through. Most gave up trying to sleep on the bus and joined the near nightly poker games. There would be rest in September.

They were back in Kenosha for another 5 game series. Two days in and they were up 3-0 with the final doubleheader the next day. Kit bounced into the room she was sharing with Eileen and Holly Adams, grinning. Eileen was already unpinning her hair, tossing the bobbypins onto the vanity. 

"Can you believe that fly catch Betsy made?" she crowed. "Barehanded! That'll kick Dottie Hinson off any covers this week." She and Eileen high fived. 

A knock on the door interrupted Holly's response. Meg Warren held up a paper bag. "Mary Jo and I are too excited to sleep. Want to go celebrate?"

"Sure," Holly said, picking up her purse. "Girls, want to come?"

Kit glanced at her wristwatch, which she had earned from a fan with her first triple. It was already midnight, only half an hour to curfew. "Where are you going?"

"There's a graveyard on the lake," Meg said. "It's only a few blocks away, and we can get there without anyone seeing."

Kit hesitated but Eileen shook her head. "I need to finish my letter to Robbie," she said. 

Holly grinned. "Is that the Rockford boyfriend or the Racine one?"

"Holly Adams! Neither! He's the hometown boyfriend." Eileen waggled her eyebrows. "Bill is Rockford and Gary is in Racine."

They all laughed and Kit decided. "I'll go," she said. Meg looked surprised but held the door open and they filed out. 

They picked Mary Jo and Clara up at the end of the hall and Kit followed them down the fire escape. There was a section of the graveyard with flat-topped graves and they settled in with the contents of the paper bags, which ended up being whiskey, corn chips and peanuts.

"Dig in, ladies," Mary Jo said, waving expansively. Kit laughed and took a handful of peanuts while the others poured themselves drinks.

Curfew and alcohol hadn't actually been rules she'd worried about following, but she decided she was glad she went when they started trading stories of their experiences before the league. Most had been made to feel unnatural for being athletic and never fit in.

"My dad played ball in college," Kit said, accepting a second cup of whiskey Clara passed to her. "He and Mother didn't mind me playing. But we-we didn't have much money in the Depression, and we turned our home into a boarding house. I had to work there so I didn't get to play very much." She took a sip and met her teammates' sympathetic eyes as they nodded. 

"But I loved baseball and wanted to be a reporter. The boys didn't accept me on the field or the newsroom. I thought it would be different here, but everyone still talks about me being a girl, like that's the important thing," Kit kicked at the grave she and Clara sat on. 

Holly nodded. "I couldn't believe when we got here and had to go to charm school. My mom made me go to finishing school and I thought I was finally done with that scene."

"Weren't you? It's not like you went," Meg pointed out, lighting her cigarette.

Kit's mouth dropped open. "What?"

Holly shrugged. "I went. To some, anyway. It was easy enough to skip, there were so many of us. A bunch of us did. It's not like it was important."

"Oh," Kit wailed. "Why didn't you take me with you?" She collapsed onto Clara. "I needed to be saved."

The girls burst into giggles. "Next year, I'll save you," Holly promised. 

"Do you think there will be a next year?" Kit asked, head still on Clara's shoulder. 

"Yeah," Mary Jo said. "We'll be back." They toasted to it.

****  
Morning came too fast. Eileen shook her awake and Kit groaned, holding her head. 

Eileen just laughed. "Up and at them, sleepy. I let you sleep late, but we need to get to the field. Holly's already gone."

Kit rolled out of bed and vowed to skip the whiskey next time. She got herself to the field, barely in time, and glared at Clara and Holly, who somehow had energy. Her plays were sluggish and she struck out every time. 

When practice was mercifully over, she followed Eileen and Clara to the local diner. Clara ordered her a coffee and Coke, which she gulped down. 

By the time they got back to the hotel, she was feeling more human. Rose intercepted them in the lobby. "Kit, may I speak with you?"

When Kit let herself into the hotel room 10 minutes later, she slammed the door behind her. Eileen and Clara looked up, concerned. "What was it, Kit?" Clara asked. "It wasn't about last night, was it?"

"No," Kit said, stomping to her bed. "It was about this morning. I forgot to put on lipstick for practice or the diner. I have to pay $5!" 

"Oh, Kit," Eileen said, sympathetically. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even notice."

"Because it's not important," Kit said. "Because nobody cares. Except ridiculous Mr. Harvey and his ridiculous rules."

She was still in a bad mood when they arrived at the field for the first game. They had taken the field for warm ups and she heard her name from the stands. She looked up and her mood flipped like a switch.

"Kit!" Her father waved and Kit dropped the ball and ran over. He leaned over the boards and hugged her.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "How did you get here?"

"I was sent to Chicago for a few days," Dad explained. "I decided to take a day trip and see Wisconsin. And my favorite daughter." 

Kit beamed. "I have to warm up. But I have time between games, can we have dinner? I'll pay," she reassured him. 

"It's a date," her dad said. "Good luck, sweetheart."

Kit ran back to her place, determined to play her best. She was head and shoulders above morning practice, fielding beautifully, but she still struck out. The team scraped by with a 3-2 win, though, and Kit rushed through her post-game routine to meet her father outside the gates. He offered his arm and they made their way to Kit's favorite diner.

"Tell me everything about home," Kit said. "How is Mother? Have you heard from Charlie? I haven't had a letter in a week."

"Mother's fine, though disappointed she couldn't come to see you play. Our last letter came just before I left for Chicago, so yours is probably waiting in South Bend," Dad said. "He's well. He's very proud of you."

Kit smiled, pleased. "I sent him a clipping of our last game write up," she said. "My triple scored the winning run."

"Kit, that's wonderful," Dad said, clasping her hand. "Well done, sweetheart. I look forward to reading your article home about it. Your newspaper letters home are very clever. They remind me of the ones you wrote when you were little."

Kit laughed. "Better, though, I hope. Got to keep my skills up," she said. "I copy the best ones for Mr. Stevens. And to be honest, you and Charlie read most of the same ones." 

Their plates arrived and Kit dug in. Dad looked at her thoughtfully.

"Your mother tells me you haven't sent any letters to Ruthie," he said. 

Kit stiffened. "She hasn't sent me any letters, either," she said defensively. "She was never as fond of baseball as I am."

"No, but she is fond of you," Dad pointed out. "She's lonely. She misses you."

"She's got her Red Cross and USO friends," Kit said. "And all her letters to Charlie and the soldiers."

"I suspect she'd like to have them and your letters both," Dad said. "This is a hard time of year for her and she's going to be your sister, Kit. It won't do to cut her out like this."

"I didn't do any cutting," Kit said. She'd forgotten that June was the anniversary of Mrs. Smithens' passing, and felt a pang of guilt. She pretended she didn't hear Dad and spoke over him. "It'll be fine. Tell me what brought you to Chicago."

Dad raised his eyebrow but Kit took a big bite of her burger and he let her change the subject.

Kit felt the meal was spoiled, though, and she mechanically finished her food and Coke. She hugged her father goodbye at the train station and headed back to the field.

Holly grabbed her first thing. "The bus is broken," she said excitedly. "They'll fix it tomorrow, but we have an extra night here. Some of us girls are going to the dance hall after the game. Want to come with?"

Kit liked dancing. Jitterbugging was one of the few athletic pursuits people didn't raise an eyebrow at, so she and Ruthie had spent many nights dancing with soldiers - she cut that thought off. "Sure," she said. "I'm in."

Betsy raised her eyebrow as Holly jogged off. "I hope you come back in better condition to play than today," she said. 

Kit shrugged. "I had an off day," she said. "It happens." She turned her back to change into her uniform and Betsy headed towards the field.

They lost the game, but since they won the series, the night out was still a celebration. Kit limited herself to one drink and waking up wasn't nearly as hard even after only 4 hours of sleep. Now that the girls knew Kit was up for it, nights out became a regular occurrence. Clara and Eileen joined them several times, and even Betsy went once. She started to consider them bad luck, though, after they started losing more games than they won and the team dropped from first to second in the league.

****

> Blue Sox Gazette:  
>  VOTE VOTE VOTE FOR THE ALL STAR TEAM  
>  Word spread this week that July 3 will see Harvey Park's first night game. Who will play? That's up to League fans. Fan chosen players from The Rockford Peaches and South Bend Blue Sox will be up against a team comprised of Racine Belles and Kenosha Comets. Friends and family of Miss Kit Kittredge are encouraged to send letters of support to the South Bend Tribune....  
> 

Kit stopped by the mirror and applied her lipstick. She hated the rule, but she hated losing money even more. She hadn't forgotten since the fine.

"Again?" Betsy frowned. "Kit, this isn't the week to play poorly. Don't you want the fans to vote you onto the All Star team?" 

"I do," Kit said. "We're not going to do any drinking tonight, I promise. And we won't be out late. We're just going to see Betty Grable's new musical. Do you want to join us?" 

Betsy hesitated but shook her head. "No, I'm going to go over these plays and make an early night of it."

Kit met Clara, Eileen, Meg and Holly in the hallway and they headed downstairs. They'd stayed at this hotel multiple times in Racine and knew the lobby staff wouldn't squeal on them. 

When they got back to the hotel, it was just after 1am. 

"Oh, shoot," Holly said. She closed the hotel's front door as quickly as she opened it and turned to them, eyes wide. "Girls, we're done for. Mr. Niehoff and Mr. Billings are in there with Rose."

"Do they know?" Clara asked, voice scaling up. "Do we wait?" They looked at each other, at a loss. 

"Should we try the fire escape?" Meg asked. They'd never needed any alternate routes at this hotel.

"We're only on the third floor," Kit said. "Let's try it."

They dashed around to the side of the building, ducking down low as they passed the picture windows. Eileen started giggling, setting them all off. 

"Shhhhhh," Holly whispered, the effect ruined by her snort. "Come on, girls. Alley oop." She led the crawl up the fire escape, with Kit taking up the rear. 

"Oh, nuts." Holly poked at the screen on the 3rd floor landing as Kit caught up. "We're batting 1.000 tonight. The screen only comes out from the inside."

"Wait, wait, wait." Eileen dug into her purse. "Ha!" She pulled out her nail file. "Let me."

She scooted in and pushed the tip in, starting to saw. The wire pinged open and the girls cheered quietly. Meg found her file and knelt down to start filing out the bottom of the screen. 

"Hurry, hurry," Holly whispered as the elevator dinged. They ducked back, but didn't recognize the man getting off. Meg and Eileen got back to work and finally they met in the corner with just enough room to crawl through. Meg pushed through and got to her door just as the elevator dinged again.

Eileen pulled her foot back just in time for Mr. Niehoff to step off and turn down the other corridor. They all breathed a sigh of relief. Eileen, Holly and Clara stepped through in turn. Holly and Clara opened their door just as Kit climbed inside. The elevator dinged and they shoved themselves in as Kit looked frantically for cover. Their door closed just as Rose stepped into the hallway. 

"Kit!" she exclaimed, taking in the scene.

"Oh, h--applesauce," Kit said, sagging against the wall. Rose was particular about language off the field. 

"Did you do that?" Rose asked, pointing to the flapping screen.

"It was like that when I came in," Kit said, truthfully enough. 

"I see," Rose said. The pause dragged on and Kit bit her lip nervously. "And where did you come in from?" 

Kit reached in her pocket and handed her the ticket stub. "I saw Coney Island." 

Rose accepted the stub with quiet thanks and shook her head. "It's late. Go to bed, but please come see me after breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am," Kit said. She wanted to ask about punishment, but she was afraid of the answer. Sneaking in after curfew had nothing on forgetting lipstick. The league did not look kindly on anything potentially scandalous. 

She spent most of the night tossing and turning, afraid of what would happen if she was kicked off the team. It would break her heart and it would serve her right. Her parents would be ashamed and she wouldn't even have Ruthie to support her. She slept fitfully and woke exhausted. She shrugged off everyone's questions and sat alone at breakfast. 

She saw Rose leave the dining room and gave herself a minute before following and knocking on her door.

"Come in, Kit," Rose said. 

Kit slid past her and sat at the desk chair. "Am I out of the league?" she asked, hands tight in her lap.

Rose paused. "I've considered it," she said at last. "You continue to have a serious disregard for our rules. But I suspect you weren't alone last night and I don't believe in sacrificing one where many made the mistake." 

Kit blinked her eyes hard, willing herself to not burst into tears of relief. 

"I won't report this to Mr. Niehoff and the league," she continued. "You went to the theater and were only half an hour late. I didn't smell alcohol or smoke on you. In terms of infractions, this was not a particularly bad one."

Kit nodded shakily. She'd gotten lucky this time.

"But this is a pattern, Kit, and we need to address it. I'm aware of your feelings about our rules. For example, as your chaperone, you are to clear your outings with me, and tell me your location in case of emergencies," Rose said. "Are those so bad?"

"No," Kit admitted. 

"You put me in a bad place when you ignore them," Rose said. 

"I don't mean to, honest. I know they aren't all bad. But the length of my hair doesn't affect my ability to play baseball," Kit said, though it didn't have half her usual heat.

"What are your feelings about the infield fly rule?" Kit frowned and Rose laughed. "Have you forgotten that I coach back home?" she asked. "Tell me your thoughts."

"It never makes sense," Kit said. "It's so confusing when calls get reversed and none of the players know what's going on, let alone the umpire."

"It's only in play in a few circumstances, and no one can remember what they all are," Rose agreed. "It's not a bad rule, but few like it. Does it mean we ignore it, or stop playing to avoid it?"

"No," Kit said. 

"No," Rose echoed. "So why can you move past that obstacle, and not these?"

Kit struggled to find the words. "This is the place where I was supposed to belong," she said. "Girls who played like me, had ambitions like me. But Bonnie loved charm school, and Betsy likes to spend time copying hairstyles from Hollywood magazines, and Eileen carries a nail file and has boyfriends in every town and they never forget to wear lipstick. I don't fit in here, either," she finished quietly. 

"Do you need to have everything in common with your friends?" Rose asked.

"No," Kit said, thinking back to Ruthie's long standing love of romance stories and movies and patience for Kit's love of sports. 

"From my perspective, you fit into this team incredibly well," Rose said. "You bring great spirit and fun. Girls love rooming with you on the road. Your love for the game shines through every time you take the field. If you weren't here, we'd all be the poorer for it. Nothing in life is perfect, Kit. Don't ruin a good thing because it's not exactly what you thought it would be."

She stood and Kit followed suit. "Please think about that. We leave for practice in half an hour. I will forget the rules broken last night, but I will not be lenient next time. Understand?"

Kit nodded and flew towards her room. 

"I'm still in," she said to Betsy, who had heard the story from Eileen and the girls. 

Betsy threw her arms around Kit. "Don't scare me like that again," she ordered.

"I won't," Kit promised. "I'm going to focus on the game, I promise. It's too important."

"Damned straight," Betsy said.

True to her word, Kit concentrated on the game and less on the rules. She understood what Betsy and Rose said and started by putting her energy into the positives. She had 8 months in between seasons to work on changing the rules, after all. This summer was for playing.

She started a letter or two for Ruthie, but all attempts ended up in the garbage can. There was too much to say.

****

> Blue Sox Gazette:  
>  ANNOUNCING YOUR I TEAM ALL STARS:  
>  ....Dottie Hinson, Marla Hooch, Kit Keller, Eileen Crestfield, Betsy Jochum, Kit Kittredge (!!!!!!!)......
> 
> TRAVEL NOTES  
>  Attached, please find a check to cover tickets on the James Whitcomb Riley train for interested parties to come watch their favorite female ball player in action at Harvey Park....  
> 

Kit and her team stepped out of the dugout onto Harvey Field and looked out at the ivy covered walls.

"I can't believe it's been six weeks since we were here," Clara said. 

"I can't believe we get to play the very first night game at Harvey Park," Kit said. 

Dottie clapped her hands and broke the spell. "C'mon, girls, let's warm up. Pair up with someone from the other team. Eileen, come with me. Bonnie, go with Kit." She headed towards the sidelines and Eileen made a face before jogging off behind her.

"She's bossy," Kit said. 

"You're telling me," the other Kit sighed. "Forget her, want to play?"

"Sounds good to me." 

Bonnie and Dottie led the practice, conferring with Mr. Niehoff often. Kit didn't even see Mr. Dugan and the Peaches she asked just rolled their eyes.

"Believe me, we're better without him," Doris said. "Let Dottie handle it, kid, she knows the drill." 

After practice, the combined team walked back over to the Belmont and Kit gasped when she saw familiar faces in the lobby. "Mother! Dad! You made it!" She hugged her mother tightly. 

"Of course we did," Dad said. "As if we would miss our daughter playing in a major league baseball park?" 

"You didn't need to send train money, sweetheart," Mother added. "We would have come anyway. We've been saving to come see you."

"I know, but I wanted to help," Kit said. 

"You sent more than we needed," Dad pointed out. 

"I-I know," Kit said. "I wanted to be sure there was enough."

"Oh, there was," Mother said. "Which is why we brought along a guest." She pointed towards the seating area, where Ruthie sat stiffly. 

"Oh," Kit breathed. She'd hoped Ruthie would come, but she'd been afraid to ask.

"We're going to rest before the game," Dad said. "We'll see you for dinner. And don't get any ideas, it's our treat." He tweaked her nose and walked off with her mother.

Kit slowly walked over and sat across from Ruthie, who was neatly dressed in a blue traveling suit - and a Blue Sox pin. There was an awkward silence.

"You didn't write to me." Ruthie gripped her handbag.

"You wouldn't talk to me before I left! Why would I think you wanted a letter?" Kit didn't want to sound defensive but she couldn't help it. The hurt came out.

"I talked to you! I was there every day, like always."

"You talked about dresses and dances and the nice weather. That's not talking!" 

"Well, you kept talking about Betsy this and baseball that. It was all you cared about. You were already gone before you left."

"It was important to me! This was the chance of a lifetime, Ruthie, I had to work for it."

"It's not the only important thing in the world, you know. Those dances and dresses were just as important to me. You know Charlie met all of those USO girls who sent me letters and he gets all that support in Europe. I need to do that for other girls' Charlies. That's how I help."

"Well, this is how I help," Kit said. "I play ball. We do a lot for the war effort, too, you know. And I didn't leave you, not really."

"You did." Ruthie swiped at her eyes and looked away. "You left, just like everyone else."

"What are you talking about?" Kit asked, frustrated.

"My fiancée is overseas. My mother is dead. My dad keeps working more hours at the bank and he says it's so I can have the wedding of my dreams when Charlie's home, but I don't care about that. I want my dad. I want to marry Charlie and I don't care what the wedding is like as long as he's there. I want to go across the street and talk about this with my best friend, but she isn't there. Don't you see? I want my family back." 

Ruthie's eyes were closed, but Kit could feel her grief rolling off her like waves and it softened her.

"I'm right here," Kit said, sliding next to her and tentatively touching her arm. "I'm coming home in two months. My parents are always there. They love you and are so pleased you're going to officially be a Kittredge. Your dad is still there, too. Charlie will come home and then it'll be almost the same."

"I want letters," Ruthie said, her voice shaking. "You're the writer, so, write. I want letters." 

"I'll write letters," Kit promised. "I'll write - no, wait, hold on." She dug around in her pack and pulled out a stack of papers. "These are the drafts of my letters to Charlie and my parents. I've got more upstairs, too. I'm saving them for notes for the Enquirer, but maybe you can keep them safe for me?"

"I will," Ruthie said, taking them carefully. "And I'll write you, too."

"Good. I want to hear everything. Even all the wedding ideas you've had," Kit said. Ruthie snorted and Kit grinned. "Honest!"

"All right, then," Ruthie said, shaking her head. "I am going to write you so many pages of wedding plans, you're going to regret saying that."

"Never," Kit said. "I could never regret anything as important as our friendship." 

****

> Blue Sox Gazette:  
>  WINNING GAME  
>  Despite a blinding 16-0 loss, not all fans of the combined Blue Sox/Peaches team were overly disappointed. Supporter Ruthie Smithens called the game a "smashing experience," and praised center fielder Kit Kittredge's efforts to keep the opposing team's score under 20. "You can always depend on Kit to come through when it counts," Smithens noted. This intrepid reporter isn't sure of the veracity of that claim, currently, but she has every intention of trying to live up to it until your return, Charlie, and after.
> 
> xo, Kit  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> A great deal of research went into this. Sources used include:  
> http://aagpbl.org/  
> http://sabr.org/bioproj/person/3c905a90  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Betsy_Jochum  
> The South Bend Blue Sox: A History of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League, Jim Sargent and Robert M. Gordon  
> A League of My Own, Patricia Brown  
> The Women of the All American Girls Professional Baseball League, WC Madden  
> Origins and History of the All American Girls Professional Baseball League, Merrie Fidler  
> A Whole New Ballgame, Sue Macy
> 
> A handful of real people (including Betsy Jochum, Marion Wohlwender, Dorothy Kamenshek, Bonnie Baker and Mina Costin) appear in a fictionalized and very respectful context. The article quote attributed to Mina appeared in one of her May 1943 articles in the South Bend Tribune. 
> 
> All hail the players of the AAGPBL!


End file.
